


Afloat Salvage

by dotfic



Category: Pacific Rim
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Movie(s), Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year later, Mako starts a new job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afloat Salvage

**Author's Note:**

> Set about a year after the movie ended. Thank you to geckoholic for the beta.

The roof of the hanger forms a canyon above Mako's head, the ceiling barely visible above the reach of the lights shining downward. She passes through cone after cone of light, her boots echoing too loudly even against the sizzle of blowtorches, the banging from the machine shops at the far end. The low hum of the wind accompanies her lonely walk. The tropical storm is almost over, but still dances.

She stops at the first row of metal pieces, clutching her tablet, and goosebumps creep up her arms although her jumpsuit is warm. Mako kneels to photograph and log the item before her. Part of a breastplate, covered in a fragment of a green stripe against yellow, the paint scuffed, the metal scarred from battle.

The next item is a servo, shining chrome-bright with black trim on the metal structure still attached to it. She logs that as well, her mind hastily jumping over imagining the full jaeger to how useful the part will be. But then Mako pictures it anyway, deducing the jaeger's appearance from what's available. It's one she's familiar with it if only from images and schematics--a mark 1, black with silver trim, beat-up and dented, its legs and arms too long, looking far too heavy for how fast it can actually go. 

Moving along the row, Mako logs the pieces into the database. The large jaeger program is over. They'll build smaller versions for use in repair and recovery operations, to heal torn and smashed coastal cities, damaged or destroyed bridges. Because the new robots will be much smaller, less complex, a single pilot will be sufficient; there will be no more need for the drift. 

Next is a large curved chunk of metal as tall as her head, graced with scarlet markings dulled to something that resembled rust. It's not Coyote Tango, but the sight of it is enough to make her catch her breath. It's been a year, and she still has to stop and bite the inside of her cheek, wait for the pulse of grief to subside.

Mako lifts her chin, logs the piece. For now, she does this work, assessing the salvaged parts for use in the new robots, the ones created for rebuilding.

* * *

When Mako was very little, she became terrified of the Gashadokuro. A print hung on the wall in a neighbor's house. Mako stared up at it as the neighbor's son, only a few years older than Mako, told her how the giant skeleton would creep quietly after people, then bite off their heads. 

She had nightmares about it for months, her screams bringing her mother, or father, or both, into her room. Her mother would sing softly to her, her father would talk to her about forging, sharpening, heating of the blades he created. It wasn't the song or the swords that drove off the creature, it was the voices of her parents, their presence in the room. Eventually the nightmares subsided. Mako was busy with school, friends, with no more time for nightmares. 

Two weeks before the first kaijun made landfall, she awoke confused in the darkness, convinced she heard the Gashadokuro's giant bone fingers scraping at her window, trying to get in to drink her blood. She screamed, and her father ran in, bleary-eyed and disheveled in pajamas and a hastily arranged bathrobe. As he had when she was very little, her father gathered her in his arms, talked to her about the trip to the park they would take that weekend, about what he wanted to have for breakfast, asked her what pop song she liked best. 

When the kaijun hit Tokyo, there was no nightmare to wake from, with nothing, she thought, to drive away the giant.

* * *

Raleigh feels like an idiot, but he can't stop grinning as he reaches his destination, the hanger appearing at the end of the long straight road. The guy driving the truck gives him a sidelong look, as if he's wondering if Raleigh's nuts or something. But he grins back as Raleigh hops out of the cab, canvas bag slung over his shoulder, into the rain and wind. The tarmac is sleek and wet, ocean behind it. 

He lopes towards the massive building, swipes his ID card while the soldier on duty nods, and steps into the relatively quiet cavern of the hanger beyond the thick door. 

The urge to grin leaves him, a weight settling into his belly at the sight of row upon row of jaeger parts, stretching longer than the cornfields he saw as a kid.

It's a graveyard. 

Yancy, the traces of him, tugs at the corners of Raleigh's brain.

* * *

Yancy used to make fun of Raleigh for checking under his bed for monsters with a flashlight before he crawled under the covers. They shared a room back then, sleeping on bunk beds. Of course Yancy got the top bunk because he was oldest. Raleigh's pretty sure if the monsters came, they would get Raleigh first, and he told Yancy as much. Yancy laughed at that and said Raleigh probably tasted awful, why would any self-respecting monster want to eat him. In retaliation, Raleigh lay on his back, raised his feet, and kicked them into bottom of Yancy's mattress.

This would annoy Yancy so much he'd climb down. Usually they'd wind up in a wrestling match, much to the annoyance of their parents. 

Eventually, worn out or because their parents ordered them, whichever happened first, they'd stop fighting and flop back on the rug. Side by side, they stared up at the stickers of rocketships on the ceiling.

Yancy told him, _I'm not going to let the monsters eat you, dweeb,_ , which made it all right, so Raleigh could go to sleep right away. 

Eventually Raleigh forgot about monsters under his bed. He grew stronger, more skilled, and could hold his own in the wrestling matches. They wound up calling it a draw more often than not. Sometimes Raleigh won, which didn't seem to bother Yancy all that much, he would grin and lightly hit Raleigh in the back in the head, sometimes offer a compliment.

The first kaijun made landfall. No flashlight would be bright enough. Not even his big brother's hand gripping his shoulder could diminish this.

The sheer size of it on the newsfeeds stunned Raleigh's brain. He was too old for being truly scared of imaginary monsters, so the world brought him real ones.

* * *

Raleigh spots her in the distance, moving down an aisle of metal fragments, almost too far away to identify. Her movements, the shape of her body are familiar, a shadow in a jumpsuit. 

His grin comes back, a weight moving off his chest. It's been eight months, but it feels like eight years, or only three days, as he starts walking quickly towards her.

She turns at the sound of his footsteps, a slow-dawning smile lighting her face as she sees who it is. Mako says his name, starts running towards him, stops and lets him close the rest of the distance.

He picks her up and spins her once as she laughs, her arms tight around him, hands pressing firmly against his sweater.

Putting her down, he steps back and can't stop grinning.

She's giving him that look now, the one where she's kind of pleased but also thinks he's probably crazy. 

"Got reassigned," he explains. "We'll be working together."

Now she's grinning too.

* * *

The storm has faded to mere rain, speckling the rows of windows high up the hangar wall. Mako takes a break to eat, and Raleigh joins her, having stowed his bag in the lockers. He's acquired a tablet, says he's sure he'll be better at piloting, but they wanted his first-hand experience with jaeger parts. Although he won't elaborate, Mako understands what he means: it's the physicality of his knowledge, not only the underlying technical function, but what it feels like to be in one, the weight, the impact, the raw perspective from someone who's logged numerous hours as a pilot. There aren't many like that remaining. There's Hercules Hansen, of course, who is now Mako's boss. Mako feels certain he made sure Raleigh was assigned to Vandenberg.

Mako and Raleigh crawl onto a broad breastplate near the edge of the hangar, the slope of it comfortable enough for sitting. The metal is cool to the touch, pale gray with stripes of blue and red that haven't lost their vividness.

There are many things she needs to ask him about the past eight months. He looks healthy, but she wants to know what he's been doing. His postcards, arriving every other week, only gave vague details. 

But it can wait. Sitting side by side on the remnants of a jaeger's armor, legs almost touching, they eat their sandwiches and drink tea poured into metal cups from a thermos. For now, they don't use many words. They eat their food, Mako's knee bumps Raleigh's, he smirks, elbows her gently in the side. Together they find peace, there among the fallen.


End file.
